


every other freckle

by jadeddiva



Series: every other freckle [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Last Jedi
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 07:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13184967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadeddiva/pseuds/jadeddiva
Summary: “Really?” Poe raises his eyebrows.  He brings his hands up to his mouth, blows into them.  “What do you think?”“I think he’s the kind of guy who would fuck to Every Other Freckle and make love to Nara,” she says off-handedly (she’s not going to apologize for music that she likes).Or, the college AU that no one asked for and apparently is all I know how to write.





	every other freckle

**Author's Note:**

> You guys, I don’t even know what this is. I was driving and I was listening to alt-j and Every Other Freckle came on and I was like modern AU Kylo Ren would totally fuck someone to this song and it just went downhill and we’ve got a Reylo college AU that I came up with on the road between Macon, Georgia, and Tampa, Florida. This is your brain on too many years in higher education.

**every other freckle**

“This is hour two – how can he still keep this up?” Poe leans his head against his arm, staring out the station doorway towards the man in the booth.  “I mean – how deep can he go? Doesn’t alt-j only have, like, three albums?”

“Yeah but he’s found some b-sides and some live tracks,” Finn calls from across the room, eyes never leaving his laptop.  “I didn’t even know you could find those.” 

“Think of it this way,” adds Rose, “he could have played all the albums back to back but instead he gave us some variety and for that, I am thankful.” 

“Yeah but he’s not even playing clean versions.  He’s actually  _ muting the curse words himself _ on every track.”  Poe punches the wall lightly.  “Freaking Edgelord.”

Rose turns her attention back to the motor in her hand. “You brought this on yourself.”

Rey watches the whole exchange with a raised eyebrow, pencil hovering over her long-forgotten circuits homework.  She’s been wrapped up in the ongoing saga of Poe versus DJ Ren all afternoon and now she’s got a weird need to see it through to its natural conclusion. 

She had come to the station to work on her homework (mostly) and help Rose tinker with the transformer (definitely) like she’s done every afternoon after class.  The station was usually empty on Wednesday afternoons, but today was different.  Poe, the station manager, was already there when she arrived, filled with more nervous energy than normal. 

“Get ready for this, Rey-bear,” he said as he ruffled her hair.  “This afternoon is going to be epic.”

He’s been on edge throughout all of Ren’s set, mumbling under his breath and pacing from the office to the couch in the DJ room and back again.  Finn and Rose have watched him from their couch, and Rey has made sure to stay out of his way as well.  She’s still new here, not quite used to the camaraderie or the way that everyone has instantly accepted her the moment she got her name on the schedule.  Maybe it’s because she can help Rose and Finn with the engineering work, maybe they are trying to hit some gender diversity quota - but whatever the case, Rey’s been welcomed with open arms like never before.

(That has been vaguely unsettling.)

Rey glances over to the door of the dj booth.  She hasn’t ever really talked to Ren – well, Ben, she thinks his name is Ben, maybe?  – but she liked the eclectic mix of music he usually played.  It was a bit more synth-y than most of her usual playlists but Rey’s never been picky about music as long as everything flowed together, songs transitioning seamlessly and keeping her in whatever headspace she was in.  Any interactions she had with him were strictly smile-and-nod at social functions put on by the station, where he showed up briefly and had a piece of pizza but never really said much to anyone except that weird guy Hux who’s got the metal show after him. 

Other than that, she’s only caught glances of him through the windows to the booth, seen the features of his face lit up by the lights from the panels, his tall frame become a shadowy figure in the darkened room. He’s a mystery to her, like he is to most of them, coming in for his show and never loitering around the station (Rey think it’s because he’s got better things to do than the rest of them, better uses of his time than hanging out at a radio station on broken couches trying to be a part of something and wondering if you actually are). 

“So wait,” Rey asks, clearing her mind and trying to focus on the moment, not her insecurities (that never ends up well). “What’s the deal with this bet again?”

Poe leans against the doorframe faux-casually, arms crossed across his puffer vest.  “I don’t know if I’d call it a bet as much as a challenge. I got tired of Ren playing three alt-j songs in a row – “

“It was one, and the next band only sounded like them – “Finn interrupts, but Poe ignores him, too caught up in his own narrative to notice the disturbance.

“Long story short, words were exchanged, and now I’ve been waiting for someone to call and complain about mediocre music for nearly two hours and  _ no one is complaining _ .”  Poe sighs, shoves his hands into the pockets of his vest and looks up at the ceiling.  “I swear to god, we need to expand our listenership – this is insanity. How can everyone in this dump of a college down be okay with this travesty?”

“It’s eight at night on a Wednesday,” Rey points out softly.  She slides her homework off her knees to the floor beside the couch.  “Nobody cares as long as it’s background noise.”

“Really?” Poe asks, utterly astounded and Rey can’t tell if he’s joking or not (she’s gotten better at reading people over the years but she’s learning, still, and Poe has a lot of facial expressions to try to process). 

The song fades to nothingness, and Ren comes on the air to read a station reminder and some advertisement for an event on campus. Rey stands up, tucks her pencil behind her ear.  She joins Poe in the doorway and they both look at the man in the booth.

For some reason the lights aren’t as dim as they usually are, and she can see Ren more clearly: the long, sharp angles of his face, the dark hair and the dark t-shirt, his expression as he concentrates on the announcement about the dance-a-thon this weekend.  There are several stupid puns in the script he reads and he navigates through it without making a mockery of Greek life in general and these chapters in particular, so Rey’s  _ almost  _ impressed.

“What’s his deal?” Poe asks, leaning over Rey’s shoulder.  “He’s doing this to fuck with me.  I know he’s doing it to fuck with me.”

“And to prove a point,” Rey adds.  “You may be alone in your opinion here.”

“Really?” Poe raises his eyebrows.  He brings his hands up to his mouth, blows into them.  “What do you think?”

Rey turns back, looks at Ren again.  He’s answering the phone while getting the next track ready, and there’s something about the way that he stands, the carefully-distressed t-shirt and jeans, the leather bracelet wrapped around the space gray Apple watch, the way that his hair curls under and around his ear, that makes her say the first thing that comes to mind.

“I think he’s the kind of guy who would fuck to  _ Every Other Freckle _ and make love to  _ Nara _ ,” she says off-handedly (she’s not going to apologize for music that she likes).

It’s a calculated risk of a joke, and it hits the mark.  Poe turns and  _ whoops  _ in delight, banging his fist against the door.   “Good one.  Fine.  Tell the Edgelord I owe him that drink, will ya?”

He starts to walk away, then turns around. “Coming to the Junkyard? I’ve got the first round.”

Rey nods.  It’s the usually Wednesday habit of the DJ crew – drinks at the Junkyard, a dive-y bar off campus that has an amazing patio with picnic benches and fairy lights, and the cheapest microbrews this side of the main drag.  It’s something Rey likes to do, even if she doesn’t always quite feel like she fits with the rest of them.   


Poe heads out the door, leaving Rey to deliver the message.  She knocks on the door of the booth, opening it up slowly.  The music is much louder here, and she’s not sure if he’ll notice her right away but he does.  He slides the headphones down to this neck and Rey had forgotten that he’s so tall and everything is sharp angles and she’s thinking about what she said to Poe less than a minute ago and really regretting the distracting visual imagery.

“Poe says he owes you a drink,” Rey says, suddenly nervous in this small space (he is so much larger than her, and he  _ literally looks like a Dorito _ , broad shoulders tapering down to his hips and she snaps her eyes upwards to meet his again).

“He didn’t really say that,” Ren - Ben - says and she notices the small smirk at the corner of his mouth.  It doesn’t fit with his aesthetic, and she’s distracted.

“No,” she agrees.  “He called you Edgelord.”

For a moment he doesn’t say anything.  The smirk disappears as he reaches across the table for his water bottle (polished metal, black top, some weird logo stickers on it) and takes a drink.  He doesn’t look at Rey, and she wonders why she’s staying, what kind of answer she’s waiting for. 

It comes, finally.   


“Yeah,” he says, looking down at the papers spread out across the empty turntable (he’s got a record on one, queued up and ready to go) and nods.  “Yeah, tell Dameron I’ll see you guys there.”

“Yeah,” Rey says, sliding her hands into the back.  “See you there.”

She wants to tell him she likes what he’s been playing, and that she likes his show, but he’s got his headphones back on and so she turns away, back to the couches and her homework that’s due Friday.  Rose and Finn are caught up in some couples argument when she gets back to the couch, and it’s clear that she won’t get any work done here.  She puts her notebook back in her bag and zips it up.  It’s only 6, and no one will be at the Junkyard until 8 at least. 

Waving to Rose and Finn, she heads out the door to the station, but before she’s gone, Rey looks over her shoulder, not quite sure why, and there’s a small part of her that’s surprised to see Ren’s looking at her too.

 

...

 

The Junkyard is never that busy on a weeknight, but it’s starting to get busy when Rey gets there.  She finds Rose and Finn on the patio, having claimed a table at the far end.  Rey slings her backpack into an open chair before heading to the bar, where Poe is placing orders just like he promised.

He slaps a hand on her shoulder and squeezes, saying “- and my girl Rey is having - ” before the bartender shakes her head.  Rey digs out her ID, still new to the idea that she’s 21 and able to drink, and tells Poe to order for her.  In the corner, someone is putting quarters into the jukebox and Mr. Brightside starts up. 

“This is just a rip off of Queen Bitch,” Poe shouts to her over the din, and Rey is tempted to agree.

She makes it back to the patio without spilling a drop of whatever IPA Poe bought for her just as a few of the other DJs filter in.  She doesn’t know them as well as she knows Rose and Finn, but they are the reason she’s here: they are in classes together, they were in the same student org, and Rose wanted someone who knew their way around electronics to help with work at the radio station.  She only got on the schedule because she knew a little bit more about music than the average engineer. 

“Hey.”

Rey looks up to find Ren standing behind her, holding out her ID between two long fingers.  Any sense of surprise at seeing him looking at her is totally overwhelmed by the fact that she left her ID behind and that’s super-embarrassing.

“Shit,” she exclaims softly.  “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he tells her, letting her slip the plastic card from his fingers.  “Anyone sitting here?” 

Rey shakes her head, a weird sort of excitement building inside her.  “Nope.  Well - you, now.”

Ren pulls out the chair and sinks down into it.  He’s wearing what he had on at the station but he’s got a dark gray blazer over his t-shirt and he’s drinking a - 

“Miller Hi-Life?” Rey asks.  “Poe said he was buying.”

“I did let him buy - I just happen to like what I like,” Ren tells her.  “Besides, what are you drinking?”

“I...don’t know, actually.  I let him order.”  Rey takes a sip, aware that Ren is watching her the entire time as she swallows down something that might literally be soup.  “Okay, yeah, that was a mistake.”

Ren smirks just a bit, which Rey thinks must be his excuse for a laugh, and offers her his drink but she shakes her head.  She won’t take his beer, and she won’t waste this one (the thought of wasting anything grates on her, even if it’s a super-hoppy IPA and next time she needs to be more assertive and not just do the thing to fit in). 

“I’m Ben,” he says, extending his hand, and she smiles. 

“Rey.” She is overly aware of how warm his hand is in hers, how his large fingers wrap around her too-small ones, and she feels super-awkward as a result. 

At that moment, Poe returns to the table and her attention shifts away for a moment, to the discussion that Rose and Finn are having about the transformer.  Rose gestures for Rey to come over, and she shoots a glance back at Ren - Ben - who is apparently looking at something on his phone.  She grabs her beer and heads to that end of the table, getting sucked into a conversation about wattage and current and it’s nice.  It makes sense.   


It makes Rey feel like she belongs here for the first time that evening. 

The conversation reaches its natural conclusion after Rey has finished her beer and she goes to get another.  As she reaches in her pocket for her cash, her fingers slide against her ID and she remembers Ben. 

He’s still at the table when she returns, talking to someone who is not a DJ but who has knows him and who has stopped by to chat.  She returns to the seat next to him, which is still surprisingly empty, and pulls out her phone.  She’s not sure what’s she’s doing but she’s taking more sips of her beer than she probably should, the buzz settling deep into her bones.  She scrolls through Instagram, checks her Facebook, and then she hears the grate of chair legs against the brick patio.

“Your show’s on at 8, right?” she hears Ben ask, and she turns her attention away from her phone and back to the guy next to her. 

“Yeah,” she says, “that’s me.”

“I like it,” he tells her.  “You played the newer Sigur Ros the other morning.  It was good.”

Rey ducks her head, fighting a blush (she’s not used to people telling her she’s good at things).   “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Ben doesn’t say anything, just take a sip of his beer. There’s silence between them and it’s awkward, like everything this evening, until he asks, “So what’s your deal with all of this?”.  He waves his hand in the air, gesturing to the table of people.  More have joined and Rey recognizes them from the station but she doesn’t know them and none of them are noticing her.  No one is, but Ben, and that’s weird itself. 

Rey’s not a lightweight but she’s skipped dinner (she’ll be short of funds until her paycheck deposits at the end of the month and she’s trying, really hard, to find a place her).  The beer is going to her head in a way that it normally doesn’t, and so she’s ready to say things that she normally would keep hidden. 

“Honestly? I don’t know.  I just transferred here and I met Rose and Finn in class and we’re all engineers and I just came to work with the radio equipment.  That, I get.  Music, I’m not so sure about and people - “

“What kind of engineering?” he interrupts, and Rey is caught off guard for a moment (she’s not used to people giving two shits and that’s really changed since she came to the station and - )

“Electrical,” she tells him, then steers the conversation away from herself.  “So are you just some weird creeper who lurks on college campuses or - “

He laughs, a gentle _ huff  _ into the autumn air, and shifts in his seat. 

“Graduate student,” he tells her. “Comparative religion.”

“Well that’s not what I was expecting.”   


Rey’s words hang heavy between them, because it’s not what she was expecting but she also doesn’t know what she was thinking to begin with, so she finishes her beer quickly before putting the glass down. 

Ben doesn’t say anything, and when she looks back up at him something’s changed.  There’s a serious twist to his mouth, and he’s moving his jaw like he’s not sure what to say next.  His eyes aren’t looking at her, but rather at the beer in his hands and that’s when Rey starts to wonder if he’s bothered by what she said, if there’s something in her admission that was rude, and she tries to think about what was wrong so she just says, “how do you have time to troll Poe Dameron and do graduate work?”

That catches him off guard from whatever mental place he had escaped to, but he’s not completely back yet.   


Instead, he just tells her, “sometimes you make sacrifices for the things that you care about,” and it’s way funnier to her than it should be at this time of the night. 

Rey laughs - loud, and ridiculous, covering her mouth with her hands, aware that she’s too much right now, too big and too obvious, but she’s just - 

She buries her face in her arms, places her forehead against the table. When she looks up, she realizes that most people have gone inside, and with good reason: the metal of the table is cold against her fingers and it’s the beer and her sweatshirt keeping her warm, keeping her alone out here with Ben - 

“Sorry,” she says, and Ben’s looking at her with some sort of carefully controlled expression she doesn't really understand. 

“He was pretty pissed this afternoon, wasn’t he?” Ben asks, fingers reaching for the edge of the bottle’s label, peeling it down, and Rey shifts back into her chair.  She slides her feet up against the legs of the table. 

“Livid, but maybe more with himself than you,” she admits. “He really just needs to accept that not everyone loves reggaeton as much as he does.”

This earns her a smile, and Ben slides his chair closer.  He looks at her, and it’s scary how intense he is in that moment, in the way that he seems to narrow his entire field of attention on her and it’s startling and just a little disconcerting. 

“So what did you think?” he asks, and

Rey swears there’s a earnestness in his tone or maybe it’s something else, something she’s not quite catching (she’s always been betters with machines than people) bu 

Rey’s tongue feels too loose, too big for her mouth and for her words. 

“I can’t decide if you’re someone who would fuck to Every Other Freckle or make love to Nara,” she says, and  _ oh _ – 

\- it falls flat.   


Like, so flat, and Rey watches as the open, inquisitive look on Ben’s face changes abruptly and he looks away.  He clenches his jaw, mouth a thin line, and everything about him becomes tense, and he looks angry.

He wraps his long fingers around the neck of his beer and he brings it to his lip, tilting his head up and draining the bottle while Rey watches (her face is burning, she has never been so embarrassed, never been so bold and reckless with another’s feelings, she really is so much better with machines than people - )

“Amazing,” Ben says, putting the bottle back on the table.  He leans in, close to her, his breath ghosting across her collarbone, her throat.   “Every word of what you just said was wrong.”

He slides back his chair in that moment, and it’s brutal, the  _ screech  _ of the legs on the cement of the near-empty patio.  Rey cringes, less from the sound and more from what he’s said.  He’s standing up, turning around to face her, resting his hands on the back of his chair and she’s got to stand up, she’s got to apologize but – 

He leans forward over the chair, and her breath catches.   


“If I did sleep with you,” he says, voice low and dark, “I wouldn’t play any music at all.”

He stands up to his full height, all six foot zillion inches of him, and moves to turn from her.  In that moment, Rey finally finds her voice. 

“Why not?” she asks (there’s something wrong with her voice but she’s on edge, lit-up with alcohol and the need to know the answer, needs to know what she got wrong – )

His eyes never leave her face, and there’s a moment where she thinks he’s going to answer her, where she’s expecting him to tell her something, but he doesn’t.  He raises an eyebrow and turns away from her at least, leaving the question still hanging in the cold air. 

Rey watches until he’s gone, until her eyes lose focus and the lights blur and she keeps thinking about the fact that he said  _ if I did sleep with you _ and when Rose finds her later, she’s got tears in her eyes and she’s more than ready for the beer her friends presses into her hands, the gentle touch on her shoulder guiding her into the bar. 

 

“He’s a piece of work, that Ben Solo,” Rose says softly and she doesn’t say anything else, let’s the words get swollen up by the noises of the bar, the laughter and people talking and Rey slides into the booth next to her, even more uncertain of what everything means. 


End file.
